


Fandango

by WhimsicalWandress



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Good Omens Fusion, Alternate Universe - Wedding Planner, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Aziraphale and Crowley are Adam Young's Parents (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Drunken Confessions, Good Parents Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Miscommunication, Nice Crowley (Good Omens), One Shot, Parents Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Prompt Fic, Random & Short, Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 18:30:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20698070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalWandress/pseuds/WhimsicalWandress
Summary: (Inspired by Tumblr prompt)Aziraphale is a wedding planner,Crowley is a divorce attorney,They're both human.What will these ineffable husbands Do?





	Fandango

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my favourite bitch](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+favourite+bitch).

Aziraphale was beginning to become frustrated. His phone rang, and his busy schedule was a tidal wave that he was struggling to escape. A wave that crashed and thrashed him around, a wave that he found both thrilling and overwhelming all at once. 

Being a wedding planner was a job that he loved, something that he found himself drawn too again and again and again. Years, jobs, friends, will pass, and yet he was drawn like a moth to a flame to the life that it both gave and took away from him. He was drawn to it for it's beauty, for the happiness and accomplishment he felt, but it always ended the same way. 

Sitting here, staring at the familiar names written in familiar handwriting, a sense of failure and hopelessness that lingers.  
Sitting here, memories of smiles and cake and family and happiness, all dragged off shore with him by the very destruction of his efforts. 

Sitting here, next to a divorce attorney. 

A beautiful, annoying, divorce attorney that kept stealing the frosting from his cupcakes. 

Aziraphale swatted his reaching hand away, releasing a defeated sigh.

'Cheer up, angel, sad isn't a good look on you.'

Aziraphale released another (dramatic, according to Crowley) sigh, looking up to meet his eyes, 

'What is the point of making sure they have the perfect wedding, when they always end up your clients too. When it always ends up…futile.'

Crowley shrugged, 'what's the point in trying to live life when you ways end up dying anyway? What's the point in trying to be happy, when you'll always end up not-happy again?'

'Well…because the happy moments is what makes surviving all the not-happy moments worth it.'

'There you go, you just answered your own question.'

Aziraphale shook his head gently, his small curls bouncing, and Crowley throws a napkin at him before he speaks, 

'No, nope, stop it. Hey, don't look at me like that, look, angel, you've got to stop being so hard on yourself, okay? You make what would have been a shitty ass fail, into an amazing wedding. And if they don't appreciate that, that's their fault, not yours. Besides, I'm not sure the wedding has anything to do with why they get divorced.  
I'm sure their gross habits and cheating ways are to blame for that.'

'I…well, I suppose you're right, Crowley. Thank you.'

'Of course I'm right.'

This time, it was a small chuckle that escaped Aziraphales lips, rather then a sigh, and Crowley felt proud. Making Aziraphale smile wasn't exactly a hard task to accomplish, he was a rather smiley person. Polite, and kind, and very very smiley. This smile, though, was hard to see. It was a special smile, one that Aziraphale reserved for Crowley and Crowley only, not that either of them knew that. 

All Aziraphale knew, was that he felt a kind of warmth around him he didn't around anyone else he had ever met before. 

And all Crowley knew, was that there was a difference between his smiles, and that the rarest was the prettiest.  
He made it his mission, to see it as much as he could. 

'Well, Mr. Know-it-all, what time is the next bus?,' He asked, brushing crumbs off his lap and standing up, 'because I have a florist appointment with a bride-to-be in about 20 minutes.'

'Ummm,' Crowley mumbled, following him up from the table and walking out of the cafe together, 'let me drive you.'

They cross the street, Crowley throwing his coat over his shoulder and adjusting the sunglasses that perched on his nose, 

'Okay. That wouldn't have anything to do with not knowing when the next bus comes, would it? Because I can easily go check -' 

'Shut up, angel, and get in the car.' He instructed, not un-kindly. 

'Okie cokie,' Aziraphale replied, hopping in as Crowley rolled his eyes, amused. 

They began driving after a quick explanation of the flower shops whereabouts, and enjoyed the familiar comfort of each others presence. 

Crowley, entranced by the sound of Aziraphales gentle humming along to bohemian rhapsody, began to reminisce on the day they had met for the first time. 

It was not a good day for Crowley, though he can't remember why, and had decided to spend most of his months wages in the liquor store nearest his home.

Walking back, already drunk and starting a rather unpleasant bottle of Vodka, he cringed at the burn. A sensation he both loved and hated at the same time; a confusing emotion that he felt too often about too much: life, his job, his lack of friends or family. 

Crowley had created quite the reputation for himself, most of it a lie. He was a divorce attorney, and despite the beliefs of those around him, he didn't like that he had to have that job. He didnt like seeing people go through such a difficult stage of life, didn't like seeing so many people cry and argue, their words bullets that pierced the heart of those they had once been willing to protect from the very hurt they were causing them, and seeing so many kids get caught in the crossfire. 

But he did like helping them, and attempting to reduce the casualties as much as he could. He did like seeing them through the war that they had started, and helping them reach the beginning of peace that a divorce might be able to offer them. 

He also didn't like being so alone. He didn’t like the misconceptions people had of him, the lies that they believed to be true. He didn’t like having no one to laugh with or talk about the emotional trauma he had to witness on a day to day basis.  
And yet, he did. He liked the opportunity to do what he wants, when he wants, without having anyone to answer too. He likes that his horrible reputation repelled those that were as horrible as he pretended to be. 

Then, one evening, drunk out of his mind and as depressed as ever, he walked into someone, and the bottle of Vodka slipped out his hands, smashing on the concrete. 

'Shit,' He cursed, staring at the broken glass that surround his feet. 

'Oh deary me, I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going at all, are you okay, sir?'

Crowley looked up to where the voice had came from, and suppressed the urge to gasp. 

A man, with beautiful curls and rosy cheeks, with hypnotising eyes and the prettiest mouth he had ever seen, stood before him. The light from the lamppost behind him caused a golden glow, and in his drunken state, Crowley thought he looked almost exactly as he imagined an Angel would. 

And in his drunken state, he made sure to tell this stranger exactly that. 

Aziraphales eyes widened slightly, in both surprise and embarrassment, and smiled,  
'Oh, um…well, thank you, haha.' 

They stood there for a moment, Aziraphale unsure of how to react, and Crowley basking in the beauty of this stranger, when he stumbled and snapped the angel from whatever trance he seemed to be stuck in. 

'Oh goodness, let me walk you home.'

Crowley wanted to scream yes, but thought he must remain cool if he wanted to seduce this angel,

'Nooo,' He slurred, 'it's quite alright, angel, I'm a grown man! I'm responsible!'

The stranger smiled, amused, 'I don't doubt that for a second, sir. And my name is Aziraphale, though Angel is quite the compliment.' 

'I'm Crowley.'

'Well, Crowley, it is rather late, I really think you should be getting home.'

Crowley nodded in agreement, 'Well, see you later, angel.' 

Aziraphale began to protest as Crowley walked away, refusing to let him walk him home, and felt rather worried for the man's safety. 

It wasn't until he was halfway back to his flat, beginning to turn back, that he noticed the small piece of paper in his pocket. 

A business card. Anthony J. Crowley, the best divorce attorney in London written on it, as well as a number. 

He slipped the card back into his pocket, walking towards his flat, first wondering how he hadn't noticed him put that in there, and also deciding he'd call him in the morning. 

Just to check of he made it home safely. That was all. 

Fortunately, that wasn't all.

Crowley has awoken the next day to a pounding headache and the familiar sound of his ringtone, 

'What,' He snapped, answering the phone.

God, his head hurt. 

'Oh, um, I'm sorry,' the person on the other line stuttered, 'I just, well, I was worried and wanted to make sure that you had gotten home safely last night, was all.'

Crowley frowned, the voice vaguely familiar, and tried to piece together the events from the previous night, when it hit him. 

'Angel?'

Aziraphale breathed out, relieved by the much gentler tone,  
'Yes, this is Aziraphale.'

Crowley, too pleased to be embarrassed, smiled,  
'Why yes, angel, I made it home quite safely. Still in bed, actually.'

'I'm glad.' Was all he said in return. 

'Well, uh, goodbye Cro- '

'Aziraphale,' Crowley interrupted, 'I'm extremely hungover, and extremely starving. Fancy joining me for breakfast?'

Aziraphale startled, surprised. Over the phone, Crowley sounded so confident, so sauve, but in reality, he was all but crossing his fingers in hopes he said yes. 

He did. 

And so, they met for breakfast. Where Crowley refused to call him anything but angel, just to see the slight blush on his cheeks and twitch of his lips every time. Where they talked, not having a single moment of silence, revealing more about themselves to each other then they have to someone else in a very long time. Where they smiled, and they laughed, and they called each other names and argued over stupid things. 

Where they both made a friend, that they would forever be grateful for. 

Until they had to say goodbye, again. Though not without promising to meet up for breakfast again the next day. 

And where Crowley had offered to drive Aziraphale home, where he hummed along with bohemian rhapsody, looking out the window, in the exact same way he was doing just now. 

Crowley could never get tired of it. 

Aziraphale was reminiscing, too. He was remembering the first time he heard Crowley say the names of his clients over their regular breakfast routine, and feeling the stab of hurt immediately. Remembering when he begged Crowley for his client book, skimming over too many names he had seen before, had worked for before. 

Remembered the sadness, and the anger that flowed through his veins.  
Crowley had never seen Aziraphale like that before, but tried his best to make him feel better. Aziraphale would forever be grateful for that. 

He often thought about their unusual…friendship.  
Thought about how different they seemed, about how different they could be, and yet how similar too. 

They may seem like an unusual pairing - something they had both heard many times before - but they didn't care.

Somehow, they fitted together perfectly. 

Somehow, they both still couldn't admit it. 

Crowley parked in front of the shop, and Aziraphale unbuckled his seatbelt. 

'I'll come pick you back up when you're done, just give me a ring.'

'You don't have t-' 

I know I don't have to, angel. Now, you better get going before you're late.'

'Thank you, dear.'

\--------

The phone in Crowley’s pocket rang, but was drowned out by the sound of arguing, of a crashing vase, of swearing and yelling. By crying. 

This is what Crowley hated the most about his job. He hated every painful second that he was enduring, and the pain he knew they were feeling too. 

The worst, was the child sat quietly in the corner. 

A few weeks ago, a colleague of Crowley’s had passed over a divorce case that they entire firm had been struggling with. They had been passed around the attorneys office, and ended up in Crowley’s lap; he usually got saddled with the hardest cases, his work ethic and success rate unlike any other. 

This, however, was the hardest he had ever done. 

The young family. 

Which, ironically, had taken a good 50 years off Crowley’s life with the stress they were putting him under. He felt as old and cranky as he possible could. 

'IM GONNA KILL YOU, ARTHUR YOUNG.'

this wasn't something he had never heard of before. In fact, it was more surprising when someone didn't threaten murder in his office. 

This, however, was different. The police had been called on Deirdre and Arthur young too many times to count, and now, they may just be called again. 

The young boy by Crowley’s side was his main priority, and this was not a situation he should have to witness. 

At the sound of the commotion, of screaming and his office being just about destroyed, security came rushing in and took them away into separate rooms. The entire thing was a blur. 

Crowley likes chaos. Loves it, in fact. But the chaos that brings heartache, that ruins innocent lives such as Adams, was not quite the chaos he found himself often searching for. 

'Uh,' Crowley stumbled over his words, comforting not exactly his area of expertise, 'you alright there, sport?'

Adam looked to him, his eyebrows raised, 'sport?'

Crowley grumbled, 'shut up. Do you want water, or something?'

Adam shook his head, without another word. The two sat there, awkwardly to say the least, not knowing how to react to the entire situation. 

'You dress weird for a lawyer.'

Crowley peered at Adam over the sunglasses perched on his nose, and scoffed, 'I'm a divorce attorney, not a lawyer. And I think you mean fabulous, not weird.'

'No, I meant weird.' 

Crowley reached for the box of tissues next to him (a staple for every attorneys office) and threw it at Adam, who ducked as it flew over his head. 

Adam looked at the crumpled cardboard box on the floor behind him, and despite everything that had happened, he laughed. 

'You act silly for an adult, too.' 

Crowley smiled, 'can't argue with that, kid.'

The two smiled at each other for a moment, before the door to his office swig open and interrupted them. 

A police officer, and Brenda.  
Really, Crowley thought, bitchy Brenda is here? 

'Crowley,' she sneered 

'Barbara,'

'Its Brenda.' 

'I know,' Crowley replied, standing up from his chair swiftly and suddenly, making her stumble back a step in surprise. 

She rolled her eyes, and turned her attention to Adam, 

'My name's Brenda, I work with child services, would you mind coming with us?'

Crowley had a feeling this would happen, had seen enough cases and enough children fall into the arms of the council, waiting for a foster family that may never come. 

The mere thought made him frown, and glare at bitchy Brenda. 

Adam shrugged, not really having a choice. 

The rest passed by in a blur too, Adam leaving, the police following, bitchy Brenda taking one of the few friends Crowley had - and actually liked. 

Until suddenly, it was midnight, and he was exhausted. Paperwork and phone calls and boring shit after boring shit got dumped in his lap, and if it weren't for Adam he may have just left it for the next days work. But for a reason he couldn't quite explain, he felt a small sense of care for the boy. 

He didn’t like it. 

Rubbing his tired eyes, he left the building and headed towards his car. He was about to open the door, when he heard the call of his name from behind him, 

'Crowley!' 

'Angel?'

Aziraphale hurried towards him, and it struck Crowley that he forget. 

'Fuck,' He cursed, as Aziraphale caught up to him, 'fuck,'

'Crowley, dear, are you alright?' He asked, looking at him worriedly, 

'I'm so sorry zira, I completely forgot, work was crazy and -'  
He pulled out his phone and saw the hundreds of missed calls and text messages Aziraphale had sent him, all slowly increasing with concern for Crowley with each unanswered text. 

'Are you alright?' Aziraphale repeated,

Crowley sighed, 'yeah, I'm alright. Are you? How did you get here?'

'Of course I'm alright. And the bus, of course. Well, for part of the way. But I walked the rest, I ran out of change.'

Crowley sighed again, apologetic, and Aziraphale smacked him lightly on his arm,  
'Stop apologising, I'm fine! I was just worried, is all.'

Crowley always answers Aziraphales messages. Usually, he picks up on the third ring. He never does for anyone else, and he had hoped Aziraphale hadn't noticed the special attention he gave his angel. 

Unfortunately for Crowley, he had. Which was why he had been so worried. 

Crowley jutted his head towards the car, 'get in.' 

Aziraphale did. 

\---

Crowley had driven straight home. Aziraphale didn't point that out. 

Instead, he silently followed Crowley through the front door, and the two collapsed into the sofa. 

'You're pouting.' Aziraphale did point that out, though. 

'am not,'

'Yes, dear, you are. Why?'

'Angel,' He sighed, 'I'm fine!'

Aziraphale didn't believe him. 

'You really shouldn't worry about it, Crowley, I was fine. It doesn't matter you missed my calls,'

'No,' Crowley interrupted, 'No, I should have remembered. But, anyway, that's not it.'

'…oh?' Aziraphale encouraged. He didn’t want to prod too much, knowing Crowley would push back and never give him an explanation. Aziraphale knew he must tread lightly, treating Crowley as though he were a skittish horse he was trying to approach. 

Crowley stood up and walked to the kitchen, returning with two bottles of wine - no glasses. 

He passed one to zirah, opened, along with an incredibly long silly straw, and sat down with a bottle of his own. (And a bright pink curly straw that he plopped into the bottle.) 

Aziraphale raised his eyebrow at Crowley, who merely shrugged in return. 

They drank. 

At first, in comfortable silence. 

Then, he started talking. 

Aziraphale, that is. 

Started talking about peonies, fuchsia ones, to be exact. 

Crowley didn't particularly care about flowers, fuchsia or not, but enjoyed listening to his angels voice.  
Enjoyed the warm, content feeling that it made him feel, enjoyed how it got slightly higher when he got enthusiastic, how it got slower when he was thinking, deeper too.  
Enjoyed how his voice was like a symphony, constructed of the lovely friendliness and warmth that his entire being was built on.  
Of the sunlight that shone through the cracks in his voice, and through the eyes Crowley loved looking into.  
Of everything Aziraphale that he loved, and even the parts that he didn't.  
Of his very being that made him an angel in Crowley’s’ eyes. 

'Yeaahh?' Zirah slurred

Crowley realised at this moment, he had been staring, and now needed to come up with a reason why. However, in his drunken state, didn't come up with a very good one. 

In fact, he didn't come up with one at all. Just blurted the first thing that came into his head. 

'I want to have him.'

Aziraphale studied his words, turned them over and over in his head, checking every side for a meaning that he knew he must be missing, but for the life of him could not figure it out on his own. 

'Huh?'

'Adam. I want him.'

Aziraphales heart sunk. Who was this Adam? How had he not heard of him before? What did Crowley mean he wanted him?  
Well, he had a pretty good idea what he meant by that, he thought. 

'Oh,' Aziraphale mumbled, heartbroken. 

'I want him.' Crowley repeated, louder this time, as though only realising it for the the first time. Saying the words, as though he was meant to say 'I figured my emotions out!'

The same way he sometimes said Aziraphale, but sounded as though he meant to say, 'love'. 

'I heard the first time,' Aziraphale snapped. 

Crowley didn't notice the sharp tone to his voice, or the crown on his face, too preoccupied by his own thoughts. 

'Well, I hope you two are very happy together,' said Aziraphale, the words dripping with sarcasm so much that he almost began to drown. 

Crowley noticed, this time. 

'huh?'

Aziraphale went silent, trying to remain calm and hide his upset, but wasn't doing a very good job. 

Crowley scooted closer, and Aziraphale tried to scoot away. 

'Huh?' Crowley echoed, confused by the sudden change of his angel.

When Azirapha continued to remain silent, he lifted his finger, and poked his adorable chubby cheek.  
Crowley adored those chubby cheeks. 

'I know I've never seemed like I wanted kids before,' Crowley began, lost in his thoughts and needing to fill the hostile silence, 'but I like Adam. And now he's in the system, waiting for a foster family, what if he doesn't get a nice one? What of he doesn't get one at all? What if -'

'WHAT?'

'Huh?'

'Wait, Adam is a child?'

Crowley cocked his head, like a puppy Aziraphale thought, 

'Of course. His parents were my clients today. I think you met him at their wedding? The Youngs?'

Oh, Aziraphale thought. He did meet Adam at his parents wedding, he was only a baby then, though, but he did remember loving the sweet small child. It was rare to have the clients who were getting married to already have a child, but whenever they did, Aziraphale wasn't particularly pleased. 

For no other reason, then because the kids were usually just an inconvenience to him, no matter how cute he found them. Adam, however, wasn't at all. 

He was always quiet, never crying, instead watching with his big blue eyes that both Aziraphale and Crowley had found themselves getting lost in. 

He was different then most kids, but the two of them were different from most adults. 

'Wait,' Crowley said, a look of both amusement and guilt on his face, 'did you think- did you-'

Aziraphale nodded. 

Somehow, neither of them could bring themselves to say it. Aziraphale too embarrassed, Crowley too excited and in shock of what that meant, 

Aziraphale was jealous. No, not just jealous, but heartbroken, at the thought of Crowley with someone else. 

'Help me,' Crowley blurted, not the best at being clear when his thoughts were so scattered,

'With what?' 

'Adam.' He said, 'Help me get him. Help me look after him...raise him.'

0H, Aziraphale thought, oh OH OOOhH 

That would make them his…foster dad's. 

Dad's. 

'Do you want too?' Crowley asked, unsure at his angels stunned silence, 

'Yes, dear, I do.'

They smiled at , their big, rare grins, that were reserved for only . 

They didn't point it out, though. Nor did they mention what they felt for each other, or what doing this would make them; to Adam and to themselves. 

But they didn't need too. All they knew, and they knew that the other did too, was that they loved each other. In a way they and never loved anyone else. In a way that scared and excited them. 

They didn't have to say anything. They didn't have to label what they were, or how they felt, because they showed it.  
They showed it by the loyalty they held to one another, by the way they always thought of the other, always cared for the other, always spent time with the other.  
And now, by wanting to raise a child with the other. 

They didn't have to say that they loved each other,  
They didn't have to say that they were together, 

Because deep down, they had always known. 

It was just the promise of a small boy, that reassured them. 

The promise of a life together, forever. 

The promise of a family. 

'Lets do this,' Crowley said. 

'Lets do this,' Aziraphale agreed. 

Let's have a happily ever after, they both thought. 

And they did.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was something, huh? 
> 
> Well, that was written in like an hour, and haven't been edited yet, so...
> 
> It you liked it anyway, pls leave kudos/comment. 
> 
> If you didn't,  
I get that. 
> 
> Thanks for making it this far anyway! Xx
> 
> \- Siobhan :)


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